


Crunching Numbers

by wartransmission



Category: Homestuck
Genre: I have no legit reasons for making this, I just made Dirk into some sort of sociopath, I'm so sorry, M/M, This Is STUPID
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wartransmission/pseuds/wartransmission
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's amazing how much can change with the removal of one little thing.</p><p>[In which Sburb was never played, the kids are on the same timeline with not a trace of the Condesce's existence, and Dirk never made his Auto-Responder.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crunching Numbers

Dirk is certain that, had he the capacity to live with another version of himself, then perhaps he wouldn’t have found Jake English so charming. Rather hard to find a man attractive when you can have yourself, isn’t it?

(He can’t tell if he’s joking himself, really.)

He probably wouldn’t have gone out of his way to woo the teen over. The amount of willpower he has, the sheer determination to win the brunet over is fucking insane in its abundance. He knows well enough how much of a manipulative bastard he can be. Bro never fails to remind him of that fact, as hypocritical as it is when he’s always gone (but Dirk never fails to need him either way). He also knows how unavoidable it is, especially when he’s lived with it for so long. It’s already a routine, a habit- it’s already _him._

(A smile to assure, to charm, to sympathize. Furrowed brows to express confusion, a form of innocence that had never been his.)

He is a puppet controlling his own strings, Pinocchio without the telling nose or the desire to become a real boy.

But maybe, for a moment (because of love, although he can never be certain of that), he might wish for it. For a heart, for a smile that is more than a simple upward curl of his lips.

Just maybe.

 

\------

 

Jake adores sparring. He loves the adrenaline, the rush of arousal from taking a win over his opponent. It’s easy to tell for Dirk, especially when Jake is the only interesting thing he’s seen in a while- barring the fact that the teen is only interesting because he’s got an air about him that talks of something new, foreign, _a challenge._ (If one were to ask the right questions, he might even admit that he has everything he knows about the brunet compartmentalized in his mind.)

Dirk knows about work ethics. He knows what you’re not supposed to mess with, when it comes to science.

He knows very well even at the beginning, when he introduces himself to Jake, when things change and he easily slides into banter with the green-eyed teen, the minutes a blur as they become a flurry of tangled arms and legs and chests pressing together. He knows even as he pins Jake down onto the floor, the loss imprinting itself onto Jake’s mind, the wound against his pride throbbing and aching as he beats the brunet at his own game time and time again.

 

 

Dirk knows that it’s wrong to conduct experiments on humans. He also knows that it’s unethical to treat people as subjects to win over.

 

 

When Jake wins against him for the first time, he concedes with ease. The meaning is subtle but _there_ when he bares his throat to the other teen, a portion of his mind already calculating the possible outcomes of his submission to the brunet.

Jake kisses him.

Dirk can’t even bother to regret what he’d done to end up with this result.

 

 

He’s gotten what he wanted, and he’d be a fool to push it away.

 

\------

 

The touches are premeditated whenever he initiates them.

He doesn’t hold Jake’s hand. He doesn’t twine their fingers together, doesn’t toy with his hair, doesn’t hold him like he would a lover, doesn’t kiss him with all the intimacy of an honest to god couple.

Instead, he smiles. He lets the back of their hands brush against each other, lets himself lay a comforting hand on Jake’s elbow, lets their thighs touch and their shoulders press together. The touches linger but never last enough to be uncomfortable- they only tease, making promises but not keeping them.

Not yet, anyway.

 

 

It doesn’t take long before Jake gives in. ( _Two weeks, seven hours, twenty minutes and thirteen seconds_ , Dirk recites in his head.)

At the thirteenth second, just as Dirk takes his hand away as it skims against Jake’s, Jake takes his hand. When Dirk looks up, Jake smiles at him and squeezes his hand in his, saying, “ _It’s actually quite nice if we hold hands like this, isn’t it?_ ”

Dirk only smiles, doesn’t say anything.

(It seems that conditioning has its uses after all.)

 

\------

 

It’s the final step after everything, after friendship, after the beginnings of a fucked up sort of romance, after the intimacy that Jake himself had initiated.

(Sex is the simplest part, really.)

On the first time, they fumble. They laugh, they tease, they touch each other until the words have gone and all that’s left are soft moans and curses as they search for an end to the upward spiral of their climax.

It becomes a ritual, how Dirk always finds himself beneath Jake’s larger frame. If not underneath him, then above him, their hips aligned- with Dirk always taking him in, always saying yes, and always being the one to moan for him.

Jake is the easiest person to manipulate during sex, Dirk thinks.

“Fuck- please, _please_ ,” he begs, a hymn of want and desperation spilling from his mouth as his hands scrabble for purchase on Jake’s chest, his hands finding stability in their grip on Jake’s arms as he rides the brunet’s cock. He growls when Jake pauses, thrusting his own hips down onto the brunet’s lap to take more of him in, his hands touching the other teen’s skin like it is Braille to his unseeing eyes.

It is poetry when he speaks (“So hot, you feel so _good_ inside me-"), music to Jake's ears with all the right high notes and lows, all the moans and whimpers and pleading sounded in all the right places that all Jake can do is fuck Dirk harder because he _wants_ so much. He needs to possess, needs to _take_ , and Dirk is more than willing to give.

In the end, it is Jake’s need to possess that drags him down into the depths of addiction.

Dirk doesn’t feel regret.

 

He’s not sure he ever will.


End file.
